


Sensory Input

by Anonomou



Category: Last Trace, Quest - Fandom
Genre: Masturbation, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28170129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonomou/pseuds/Anonomou
Summary: A clone has her secrets.Inspired by the Questden quest, Last Trace.





	Sensory Input

**Author's Note:**

> Sensory Input -   
> By AlexanderOrmsby/Anonomou. Fanfic for the tgchan/questden quest, Last Trace.   
> Read it here at: https://questden.org/wiki/Last_Trace
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of pornographic fiction involving many things that you shouldn't read in public, such as young woman looking at naughty things and lewd fantasies. Please do not read if it would be illegal for you to do so.   
> Tags - F/Solo(?), toying, mild exhibition

In a secret facility in the middle of the sea, there was one particular corridor that most soldiers tried to stay away from. It wasn't because the engineer was an unpleasant individual - she was one of the kindest people on the island. Instead, it was her occupation of choice that kept people away.   
It became a commonly-known fact that when a little red light was lit outside of the upstart engineer's door, you'd better stay clear.   
For some, it was the idea that you could open the door and nearly get shot by a nearby laser cannon.   
For others, it was simply a matter of politeness. After all, you wouldn't want to bother someone who's the best at their work!

The engineer liked it this way, though for a completely different reason to what everyone else thought.  
Hiding your feelings wasn't difficult for most, but for Diagram, it's not so easy when your emotions and sensations are being broadcasted telepathically to anyone nearby.   
This was especially a problem when you were one of the few people in the whole facility who had ready, secret access to the island's only repository of pornography.   
Sure, she had a suppressor - but it's quite suffocating having it on *all the time*. How could you unwind when it feels like there's a blanket wrapped around your face?

Whenever Diagram finished her tasks in the foundry and returned home, she'd scan the corridor for anyone lurking in the corners, before ducking into her room.  
One lock, two lock, three locks. Her fingers tapped across the interface in moments, the first part of her secret routine.

Like leaving a trail of footprints at a beach, Diagram shucked off her boots, feeling the cool vinyl beneath her toeclaws.   
Her chair spun as she hopped in, seated comfortably in front of her workbench. Like a good engineer, she had made sure to clear her workspace before she started her tasks. Her computer monitor glowed, folders visible in the lenses of her semi-circular glasses. 

From 'Work Documents', to 'Misc. Research' to a password-protected folder named "Weapons Schematics", she flew through the folders in a blur of dancing fingers and keystrokes. Finally, spread out before her, was her *collection*.  
Large-breasted women of all four species, handsome men splayed out in pinups, exotic, erotic horn-shapes of different varieties! It had it all.   
Diagram's bespectacled eyes scanned the screen, her right hand deftly navigating the cursor through the archives of illicit imagery. After months of browsing, she had already long since sorted the folders by content herself - though, whoever had owned the collection before had clearly put effort into sorting it. 

This collection was her own personal secret - nobody could know about it, not even her best friend. The very thought of someone walking in on her... terrifying.   
Practiced excuses fluttered into her head. "It wasn't me! I just found it in some of the old scientist logs! Someone had it on a portable storage drive!"   
Of course, that was only partially true. She had found a dusty data drive in the corner of the training room one day, and cracked the password on it.   
Oh dear, sweet, innocent past me, she thought. If only you knew.  
A bead of sweat formed, before being absorbed by her glaucous fur.   
Diagram learned early on that knowledge is power, and power corrupts.   
Even from just the downsized thumbnails on the covers of the folders, she felt a familiar flush return to her nethers, as her active imagination tried to interface with her capricious libido. 

She kneaded her forehead in shame, imagining what her closest friend would say to her if she knew what Diagram got up to in her spare time when she was tired of engineering.   
"If you're horny, why don't you just pick someone and bump mounds together, huh?"   
Sex, with someone else? The very thought made her tremble. It was one thing to *watch* it on the screen, but she couldn't possibly explore such a thing when everyone around her was so... assertive. It was hard to even imagine herself asking anyone, even though she was by no means short.   
She straightened up her back, the labcoat on her back feeling awfully clingy under the heat.   
Here, this was safe. She would be able to satisfy herself, entirely within the realm of fantasy. 

The cursor navigated to the bottom row of folders, past "Wallpapers, past "Wearing Condom" and settled on the 'Wholesome' folder.

Click, click, click...  
As the scandalous imagery flashed by her eyes, she subconsciously crossed her legs together, biting her lip. Her free hand was fumbling for the button of her pants, as her breathing quickened.   
There on the screen was her favourite video of the directory - A Keletzar woman, dyed a similar shade of blue to herself in an elegant dress, being taken to bed by a dashing gentleman of another species. A freshly wedded couple, consummating their marriage - though, Diagram noted to herself that the odds of the bride wearing nothing underneath was a bit of a fantastical element.   
The elegant clothing were discarded to the side as the couple engaged in their passions, playing out their parts in the cycle of life. As if to match the couple's ritual, her own slacks fell to her ankles, revealing naught but her scandalously thin pink underwear.   
Diagram whimpered, squirming around on her seat. The imagery had long since burned itself into her memory, her fantasies at night. But seeing it in motion, hearing the surround sound through her two pairs of ears...

Her studies into it just weren't the same. She knew how sex worked, and it's purpose in normal society. Some of the clones were most definitely engaging in it with each other, though she often turned down their advances. Fantasies of herself being splayed out and used as a toy by one, or two or more of the many amazonian clones in the facility sounded exciting on paper. But much like scientific theories and hypotheses, it was only the case on paper. Realistically, she'd be unable to match the stamina of anyone else, were she not marching by her own pace.   
As Diagram reached down for her quivering sex, her prudish mind drifted off into memory, recalling her past escapades and pushing out such thoughts. 

Once, out of perverse scientific interest, she had recorded her self-explorations, in an attempt to recreate the bliss that the women of the Collection had felt.   
Just *once*, she wanted to feel that blissful release, that involuntary *writhe* of ecstasy.  
And so, she took to it like the engineer she was - scientifically, and efficiently.   
Diagram had captured her very first orgasm on film, a fact that makes her want to squirm away into a nearby dark corner where horny degenerates like her belonged.   
Oh, the shame, the shame! How she presented herself to the camera, completely naked and yet just as awkward as she normally was, even though she knew that nobody would see her like this! The plan was simple - she'd stimulate herself until she reached climax, and stop.  
And yet, that plan completely fell apart. It was doomed to fail the moment she spread her baby-blue thighs and reached down.   
Her delicate fingers, trained by years of careful weapons calibrations had traced across the puffy lips of her fluffy mound, prompting a moan. She clapped her hands over her snout, attempting to muffle the involuntary squeal. Instead, she had smeared her own musky fem-fluid right in front of her nostrils.   
It was as if her years of repressed sexual urges burst forth at once. She clawed at herself like an animal in heat, squealing and gasping for, at the time, what felt like a blissful haze of eternity.   
Diagram could practically hear the voice over in her ear, telling her how much of a repressed whore she was, getting so worked up over her own scent like that!

She should have deleted it, erased all traces of evidence.   
Yet, she didn't delete it. She couldn't delete it!  
After all, it was valuable data, she rationalized.   
So valuable, that she recorded herself on a weekly basis - performing for nobody but herself.   
Thank the heroes she didn't turn off her suppressor that time. And yet, even with her restricted emotional response, it was completely unlike any other sensation she had ever felt. A part of her looked down on herself - she was an addict to *herself*. 

Here she was, trying not to glance at the blinking red camera light as she gradually stripped away layer after layer of her clothes.   
Hastily thrown askew, her labcoat fell by the wayside, her jacket being unbuttoned and thrown off, leaving her only with the modest undergarments of a good girl underneath - Of course, she was anything but. She had robbed that claim from herself with her continued porn addiction.   
As if in a strip-tease, her panties settled by her ankles as she circled and squeezed her little button, losing herself in desire. Already, it was swollen from prior visual stimulation, begging to be touched, more and more.   
Her free hand wrapped itself around her jaws, trying to keep her gasps from escaping - of alerting anyone to her scandalous activity. 

Subconsciously, her legs spread apart further as she dug into herself with her precise fingers. Sweat beaded under her fur, her free hand flicking and teasing at her tender chest.   
Her hips rocked against her fingers, as she shakily breathed out hisses of pleasure. Oh, how she wanted to be the actresses she could see in the monitor! 

She paused, biting her lip. No, this wasn't enough. She was feeling... *raunchy* tonight.   
Lowering her legs with a shuddering gasp as she scooted the wheeled chair over to her draws, she pulled one open - her cabinet of inventions. 

Rummaging around in the drawer, she pulled out what looked like an innocuous baton and flicked the switch.  
The soft rounded tip whirred to life, and she stared at it with deadly intensity. A pang of shame ran through her - one of her few creations she never told anyone about. A tool not for warfare, but for *pleasure*.   
Simply put, it destroys people. If word got out, she would be hounded for days. It wouldn't be *hers* anymore. After she had tested it on herself for an hour, she had been numb for days. It was too dangerous for others to know about. 

Within moments, she gritted her teeth and pressed it into herself.   
Her jaw dropped, her eyes glazed over and for a moment, she couldn't feel anything but the jolting pleasure in her crotch, and the vibrations in her arm. 

She could feel herself clench around the silicon tip, her logic overtaken by something primal. It was far too big to simply circle around - she slowly cleaved at herself with the tool, dragging it up and down her soaked, engorged lips, her other hand unable to decide whether to push the toy deeper into her, or to grope elsewhere and satisfy another aspect of her lust. Grinding it against herself felt like she was pounding her pussy into dust, sending stars across her vision. 

Diagram whined, rocking on her chair as her senses were assaulted by her creation - at the precipice of, but inches away from a satisfying release.   
Drool trailed down from the corners of her jaws as she leaned further and further back into her chair, spread-eagling herself in front of the camera, where every single detail of her sexual anatomy was recorded.  
Her legs lifted up onto the desk as she shifted around for greater purchase of her pussy, eager to drive the toy deeper inside of herself. 

She couldn't bear it! That suffocating feeling! Her free hand reached up, clutching her head as she moaned out in pleasure, mashing the toy closer and deeper into herself. The air felt electric, her fur felt like a blanket, and logical thought was replaced by the constant pulsing of her toy, and her pussy.   
And as if by accident, a finger reached up to the emotional feedback suppressor, disengaging the little device. 

Unaware of her actions, she continued to gasp and groan, desperate to express her bliss to an imaginary partner.   
Her logical side screamed out, absolutely flush with embarrassment.  
"No! Don't! What if someone hears you?" 

It didn't matter. She wanted to be fucked. Claimed. Made into a mewling wreck by her fantasy. She was *so* close, she couldn't care.   
Random assortments of faces danced through her vision - it didn't matter whom. Her screen blurred in front of her as her imagination took over, the colours swirling into a beautiful, arousing tapestry.  
The men from the images, the women - even the other soldiers of the Island, she wanted to be claimed and dominated and fucked and come and-

She came with a squeal, her chair jittering under her ass, her swarm of tails slapping against the base of the seat in blissful release. When was the last time she brought herself to *such* a blissful climax? It was almost like she didn't have her suppressor on at all. Again! Again! She came in succession, spurts of musky fluid splashing over her clothes below, her half-lidded eyes fluttering with satisfied need. She pushed and pulled the toy out of herself - no longer grinding, but *fucking* herself with the toy to extend the waves of her orgasm, stretching it beyond the limit.

Finally, as her mind blanked out from the continued pleasure - she returned back to reality. 

Diagram panted, her tool of choice still vibrating in the loose grip of her hand. Her legs were spread far apart, propped up on her workdesk. She was sweaty and smelled like she had been running for an hour. Most importantly, she had just came all over her clothing.   
With the assistance of a lazy digit, she worked the toy free from her numbed cunt, trails of slime dripping onto her belly fluff. Even still, her over-excited vulva kept clenching around a phantom insertion, tense from the sheer stimulation. Her legs dropped from the tabletop, shivers running down her back as her pussy tried to realign itself to some degree of normality, but she knew that she wasn't going to be walking straight for a while. Her chair and floor were stained by her own arousal, and as she came down from her orgasmic high, she bitterly noted that she was going to have to give everything a thorough wipe-down afterwards.   
Sluggishly, she dragged an arm upwards, slapping the 'stop' button on the camera - and only just now noticing the rapid, *angry* knocking at her door.

Her heart seized. *Oh no.*  
On went the undershirt, on went the lab-coat.   
She staggered over to her room door, pulling up her pants along the way - trying to cover up the conspicuous stain at the crotch. She winced as the cloth chafed against her sensitive pussy, still in the aftershock of orgasm. 

As she slammed the open button an the door slid open -   
Instructor Judicium was standing outside, her arms crossed and face flushed. Typically, her expression was flat, like a sheet of ice - accompanied by her scarf billowing behind her. Today, she looked livid.   
"Diagram. Turn on your suppressor."

Diagram reached a wet hand up to the side of her head - realising that she had turned it off in the throes of pleasure. 

"I-I'm sor-"

She looked down, realising that at the front of Judicium's pants, there was the same... wet... stain...  
Diagram realised that she had forced one of the toughest instructors in the facility into multiple orgasms *with her mind*.   
She blushed. And why did she think it was *hot*?   
There was dust on her pants - had she - had she fallen to the ground as she was orgasming? Because of *her*?   
Diagram clapped a hand to her mouth in embarrassment - only to realize that it was her *wet* hand. And her clothes were stained with more of the same.   
Judicium glanced at the sticky evidence on Diagram's fingers and clothes and huffed, a strained breath passing through her lips before she turned away from the engineer.   
"Next time, I'll talk to you at work. I'm going to find a change of clothes."

She staggered off, leaving the embarrassed engineer behind to clean up. 

From that day onwards, whenever Diagram turned on the little red light in front of her door with different intentions in mind, she also made sure to turn on her suppressor too.


End file.
